Alexander: One more love disappointment and I’m buying a miniature schnauzer, naming it Machiavelli, and calling it a day on dating.
lust
Cecily, on a shoe.
Cecily: I threw one shoe off on the steps of the Sacre Cœur and left it there, a crazed contemporary Cinderella. I figured that by the time midnight hit, I’d have a prince and a roasted pumpkin in my oven and a quartet playing Corelli in my living room. I guess I didn’t read Grimm’s tale with enough scrutiny…
Cecily, on a destructive kind of love.
Cecily: Just one day, I want to be on the train to Inverness and catch a man’s eye. We’d fall easily into a Lady Macbeth and Macbeth kind of love.
Two friends, on stealing back hearts.
Cecily: Today I will go to Bordeaux for the very first time!
Arnaud: The woman I am in love with is there with her husband. If you see my heart somewhere around Bordeaux, pretend not to know me.
Cecily: I’ll pick it up from the floor and hide it in my purse on my way back to Paris. Like a fugitive orchid.
Arnaud: I don’t miss it. Tell it I am in Tasmania.
Cecily, on long-distance love.
Cecily: I know that when we’re together I try to cherish every moment, but when we’re apart, I count the minutes I didn’t spend touching your face.
Two friends, waiting by the phone.
Cecily: You offended the hell out of her. Why do you think she is going to call you back?
Maurice: Because I believe in miracles.
Cecily, on “Frederic”.
Cecily: We called him Frederic for two hours before we realised that it was not his name. A twenty two year-old comedian with a provincial French accent, he slithered up to us when we were all eyes-peeled for benefactors, and poised to target men with Berlutti shoes. I use the word “slithered” a little callously. But slippery, young, money-hungry women look more like goddesses than snakes, and poor French boys looking for a little love lust can at times be scrawny and clothed in snake green. Frederic was.
Two friends, on love.
Alexander: Love is an illusion, death is inevitable.
Cecily: Love is not an illusion. Marriage is inevitable. I will be happy.
Alexander: The very existence of love, or indeed any sentiment, is questionable. Marriage is a social construct. Happiness is rampant hedonism.
Cecily, on stars.
Cecily: Stars are the part of the sky that glitter remembered.
Carlo, on lovers.
Carlo: People who are in love are always right.
thedailymails 